First of Jesse I

*10 years later*

It's midnight, but I am still outside, sitting here in the dark part of the park. The city is still busy, with many people passing by in the street. I see couples too, being lovey-dovey, holding each other's hands and laughing together. I think if that day hadn't happened, maybe I wouldn't be like this. I always used to think nonsense about that emotion called "love" and was looking for the best example of it. I laugh to myself; I am a romance writer, but I myself haven't experienced such a thing.

I stand up, about to leave when I feel my phone vibrate. I look at my phone and see that Matthew is calling, so I pick it up.

"Hey, Matt, what's up?" I say.

"Jesse, where are you?" he asks.

"I am here at the central park, why?" I answer. Maybe he wants me to do a favor.

"At this time!?" He says, obviously shocked.

"What's the big deal with me being outside? I am a guy, anyway," I state. Well, I am a guy; no one will harm me here.

"Tsk! You are so stupid! I'll pick you up, so don't leave. I have something to tell you," he says.

He ends the call, and as he said, I don't leave.

After a few minutes, I see Matthew's car. Don't ask me about his car; I don't know anything about cars, but he told me his car is a BMW. Uh? I don't know what that is. Anyway, Matthew gets out of his car and walks towards me.

"You are so stubborn! Why are you here outside at this time?" he scolds me.

"You're being overprotective like my parents," I pout.

"Well, if you could just be aware of your surroundings," he says, releasing a heavy sigh.

I really don't understand them. I am a guy, but they treat me like a little girl as if my parents didn't watch me, I'd be lost. For Pete's sake, I am a 25-year-old guy!

"Let's go," he says, and we walk to his car. We get in, and he starts driving. I wonder where we are going, so I ask him.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"To my condo," he briefly answers.

He is completely concentrated on driving. On our way, I wonder why this guy hasn't had a girlfriend. Is it because of his career? Oh, by the way, guys, I forgot to tell you that Matthew is a famous actor. Before I left, Matthew told me that he wanted to be an architect. Now I don't know what happened, and he entered the world of showbiz.

He stops the car, and we enter the building where his condo is located. Matthew is literally rich now; he has a big condo, and cars, and he almost has everything.

We are now inside his condo, and I sit on one of the sofas here. "So, what are you going to tell me again?" I ask him. He sits across from me.

"You are a writer, but you haven't published any of the stories you've written in a publishing company, right? You only post them on social media," he asks me, then he smirks.

"Uh, yeah, why?" I ask because I am confused. Is he mocking me for being a freelancer with an unstable salary?

"I talked to a friend, and he told me that his father owns a publishing corporation. I asked him if you could work with them, and he said yes, but you have to go to

 the company tomorrow if you want to publish your stories," he explains.

I can't believe that Matthew would do this kind of thing for me. I am happy because I have my own work.

"Are you in?" he asks me.

"Of course!" I exclaim.

-The next day-

We are now in front of the building Matthew was talking about.

"Let's go inside," he tells me, and we start walking.

The hallway isn't empty, but all eyes are on us. Of course, who wouldn't look at us? I am with a famous celebrity, and I hope my life is not in danger.

We enter an office that I think is supposed to be for the manager.

"Good morning, sir!" Matthew cheerfully greets the guy sitting in this office.

"Good morning, Matthew," the guy greets too.

"He was the one I was talking about, sir," Matthew says and pushes me forward to face the manager.

His eyebrows furrow, and I know he is confused.

"Is he the one you're talking about? I thought he was around the same age as you. I didn't know he was still a teenager," the manager says.

I am surprised by what he just said. Me? A teenager? Do I look like one? Hell, I am not a teenager! I am even a month older than Matthew.

"But, kid, even at your young age, you still manage to write great stories. Matthew sent me a sample of your work, and you possess the perfect skill to write a beautiful story," he compliments me, but I don't take it as a compliment. He called me a kid!

I see Matthew smirking at me, and I know he is mocking me. I know he will not help me with this kind of situation, so I speak for myself.

"Sorry, sir, but I am not a teenager. I am a 25-year-old who graduated from Harvard University with a major in Literature," I explain with my bass tone of voice.

This guy is utterly shocked.

"Really? I am sorry for the misunderstanding," he excuses himself.

"It's okay, sir. I don't mind it," I speak politely.

"But you do look like a teenager. Anyway, I'll introduce you to your editor. Please wait for a while," he says, then he calls his secretary.

After a while, we hear a knock on the door.

"Come in!" the manager shouts.

A guy enters. He is tall and has glasses. I stare at his face, but I am shocked when I recognize him.

"He'll be your editor from now on. He is Mr. Klein, one of my chief editors," the manager explains.

My mind still isn't functioning well because the guy I ran away from 10 years ago is now in front of me.

"I'm Oliver Klein," he says bluntly and extends his arm to shake hands with me.

I remember the past. It was like this, except for his reaction. He was smiling at me back then, but now he shows no emotion. Doesn't he recognize me?

"I-I'm Je- I'm Red, Red Wright," I stutter and grab his hand to shake.

"Nice to meet you," we both say to each other.

It's a disaster to meet you. Again.